


Healthy Living

by Snickfic



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Nipple Play, Sibling Incest, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 00:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: Theo is a fuck-up in a family of fuck-ups, and she loves Nell more than anyone—yeah, even Shirley, even Luke. There’s no way to keep yourself from loving Nell. That’s probably why Theo does what she asks.





	Healthy Living

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singedsun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singedsun/gifts).



Nell is still staring out the window when Theo returns with grocery sacks hanging from each hand. She doesn’t seem to hear as Theo loses her grip on one of the sacks. Some part of Theo hopes that thud is the ice cream and not the pears; the rest of her looks at Nell looking at the rain.

It’s her week to babysit Nell. Shirley’s out of town at a conference, and Kevin has gone along this time. They’re making a vacation of it. That means Nell is here, drifting through Theo’s condo like a ghost: insubstantial. Theo thinks she could reach to touch her and pass right through.

“I got Chunky Monkey,” Theo says.

Nell turns her head at last, as mechanical as a doll’s head moving on a swivel. Her face is like the rain, dismal and gray. “I’m not hungry,” she says.

“Suit yourself.”

Theo unpacks the groceries. It _was_ the pears in that sack, fucking damn it. Two are bruised to hell and still green, so she can’t even eat them. She drops those two in the garbage and then drops the rest in, too, because why not? She can’t save bruised pears. She can’t save her sister, whose eyes are so dark with grief they might as well be bruised. Even Steven would be better at this than her—but of course Shirley wouldn’t ask Steven.

Theo fishes the uninjured pears out of the garbage, washes them off, and sets them on the counter to ripen, if they will. She takes the Ben and Jerry’s and two spoons into the living room, where she sits on the couch, just down from Nell. She presses one spoon into Nell’s hand.

Nell doesn’t say anything else about not being hungry. After a few spoonfuls, she says, “I should eat something healthy.”

“That’s so weird. I thought Shirley was in New Orleans, but I swear I just heard her voice.”

Somehow that brings out just a hint of a smile, like a flash of sun through thinning clouds. Theo hasn’t seen her sister smile in five weeks.

“You wanted healthy living, you should have gone to a spa,” Theo says, and goes for a walnut.

“I’d rather be here,” Nell says, as if the spa were a serious suggestion. Except then she says, “You don’t pretend like everything’s okay, but you don’t act like I’m just going to fall apart, either.”

“Kinda thought you already had.” It’s like Theo has a finite store of tact, and it all gets used up on children. She doesn’t have any left for anyone else—not even for her fucking sister.

Nell only shrugs. “Yeah.”

Theo doesn’t have anything to add to that. They work on the pint together until finally they clank spoons, trying to scrape the last ice cream from the bottom. “You can have it,” Theo says. She can do that, at least. She can let Nell scrape the ice cream carton.

When Nell’s finished, she says, “I’m cold.”

“Ice cream headache?” Theo teases, but she opens her arms, and Nell scoots over and leans into them, just like they did so many times on Aunt Janet’s couch after a scary movie—Nell wouldn’t tolerate ghost stories of any kind, but she liked being freaked by bugs and spiders—or during a thunder storm, or after Nell had one of her dreams.

Like she always did then, Nell wriggles out of Theo’s arms eventually. Then she turns to stare into Theo’s face. Hers is as gray as the sky. She searches Theo’s eyes like there’s the answer to some mystery there, and the longer she looks, the farther away she seems, like she’s disappearing right before Theo’s eyes. Then, all at once, she leans in and kisses Theo on the mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Theo says, jerking away. “What the fuck, Nell?”

Silent tears have begun to roll down Nell’s cheeks. Theo hasn’t seen her cry since the funeral. “Do you have any idea what this is like?” she asks, voice cracking. “It’s like without him, I’m not even real. I don’t know if I’m even _here_. I just—I just want to feel something.”

“You want to feel _me_?” And here, the stupidest thing Theo’s said today, among a bunch of strong contenders: “I didn’t think you were even into _bridesmaids_.”

“You’re my sister,” Nell says, like this is an argument for and not against. “I just—please, Theo. Please.”

Jesus Christ. Theo stares at Nell, at her paper-thin skin, so white it’s like all the blood has drained clean out of her. Like she might blow away, if Theo pursed her lips and blew. 

“Please touch me,” Nell says.

Theo is a fuck-up in a family of fuck-ups, and she loves Nell more than anyone—yeah, even Shirley, even Luke. There’s no way to keep yourself from loving Nell. That’s probably why she does it. She tugs her glove off, one finger at a time, while Nell stares at her out of enormous eyes like bruises. Then the other glove, methodical. She sets them on the coffee table next to the discarded pint carton, haloed in neat white drips of melted ice cream.

Then Theo reaches up and cups Nell’s cheek. It’s like the ocean, vast, sweeping over her and threatening to pull her under: the grief. It’s dark and cold, and buried under the sea floor’s ever-shifting sands, Nell is terrified. 

Theo drags her hand away. She’s crying now. “Honey,” she says helplessly, awash with grief that will take her feet out from under her at any moment.

“Please,” Nell whispers.

Theo buries her hand in Nell’s fine brown hair, pulls her close, and kisses her. 

Nell’s lips are chapped. She opens them immediately, like an invitation. She tastes so sweet, of chocolate and artificial banana. She licks at Theo’s tongue and moans—a guttural sound, a sound made by someone with a throat and a gut, someone real. “What do you want?” Theo asks against Nell’s mouth.

“Anything. I don’t know. Anything, Theo.”

Theo slips her hand under the hem of Nell’s button-down and cups her breast. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nell says, high and tremulous. 

So Theo kisses Nell again as she works on Nell’s buttons, and then she’s sliding her sister’s shirt right off her shoulders. Nell’s got a cute little bralette on underneath, gray edged with lace. _This is your sister_ , Theo thinks, and then she leans in and kisses Nell’s neck. She presses her hand to Nell’s ribs and lets it wash through her again— _untold depths of grief_ —but riding the surface of it is something more. Need, desire. _Interest_ , and when was the last Nell showed any of that? “This is fucked up,” Theo says.

“Don’t stop,” Nell pleads. She skates her hand over Theo’s shoulder. Then farther, down her back, over the cotton of Theo’s tank top. She pauses at Theo’s bra line.

“You can touch whatever you want,” Theo says. Assuming Nell wants to touch anything. That was never part of the deal. 

Cautiously, Nell slides cold fingers under Theo’s tank top and undoes the clasp of her bra. Theo leans back to tug the straps out over her arms and drop the bra on the floor. She’s only got her tank on now. “Free at last,” she says. She arches her back so her nipples are a little more visible through the cotton, like Nell’s any random hookup. Theo knows these moves without even thinking; she’s made them so many fucking times. 

With eyes full of intent, Nell reaches up and gently squeezes Theo’s breast. “Just like yours,” Theo says.

Nell makes a face. “Mine aren’t this nice.” She brushes her thumb over Theo’s nipple, and that’s when Theo notices, way too late, how hot her blood is in her clit. 

“Jesus Christ,” Theo says. She reaches behind Nell’s back and slips her bra clasp in one practiced move. Then there Nell is, bare, nipples pink and alert. “There’s not a fucking thing wrong with your breasts,” Theo tells her, and then she sinks to the floor between Nell’s knees, leans in, and puts her mouth on that right nipple. Nell gasps, and Theo sucks her in, between her lips, working her flesh ever so gently between her teeth. There’s a hand in Theo’s hair now, tangling in it like it just needs something to do.

“Theo,” Nell says, high and needy. She grabs one of Theo’s hands and shoves it between her own thighs. 

Theo leans back, grinning, to survey her handiwork. Nell’s face has lost that paper-white look, and now she’s flushed with color, just like the nipple Theo’s been nibbling on. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nell says.

So Theo unbuttons Nell’s jeans and tugs them down off her legs. She’s wearing cotton underwear, high-waisted. “Granny panties,” Nell says, apologetic.

“Wishing you put on hotter underwear this morning?” Theo says. “Man, if only you’d known this was gonna happen, right?” She’s riding that old, familiar high now, the one that says nothing hurts, nothing’s wrong with her, nothing she’s doing can hurt her. It’s a liar, but that’s never stopped her listening. 

And fuck it anyway, because Nell’s smiling at her, incredulous but so bright, showing all her teeth. 

Theo’s already on the floor. All she has to do is push Nell’s knees apart and bend. She presses her mouth to the faded blue cotton. Nell quivers, and Theo gathers saliva on her tongue and licks a stripe up the center.

“ _Theo_ ,” Nell says, sounding a little scandalized.

Theo pulls the cotton crotch carefully aside, and now here is Nell at last: flushed and shiny in her nest of dark hair. 

“I haven’t really—I mean, I used to—”

“I don’t mind munching the carpet,” Theo says, flashing Nell another grin. She’s suddenly impatient with the foreplay. She tugs at Nell’s underwear, and Nell gets the picture and works them the rest of the way off.

Nell smells of arousal, rich and salty and wet. For a moment Theo only puts her mouth to Nell’s clit and breathes. _What am I fucking doing_. But then she looks up and there’s Nell, watching her with such bright eyes—maybe too bright, fever-bright, but fevers are reserved for the living.

Nell is so warm against Theo’s tongue. Her breath comes in stutters and gasps. When Theo licks between her folds, Nell doesn’t give way, doesn’t disappear. An hour ago she was mist barely holding its shape, but now she’s blood and muscle and salt slick, she’s squeezing Theo’s shoulders between her thighs and tangling her fingers once again in Theo’s hair.

Nell comes with a shudder and a soft cry, head thrown back against the sofa. A few of Theo’s hairs get yanked out at the roots.

Theo leans back on her haunches, the glass coffee table is a firm horizontal edge at her back. She watches Nell’s bare chest heave. She drags herself up onto the coach, her knee bumping into Nell’s. The next moment, Nell rolls herself into Theo’s side, tucking herself against her so there’s nothing for Theo to do but put her arms around her. It’s like nothing happened at all, except Nell’s bare breast is pressed up against Theo, and Nell’s taste is on Theo’s tongue.

Nell’s breath hitches. Theo holds her tighter and lets her cry. Finally, when it sounds like the tears have dried, Theo says, “Nell—”

“I’m sorry,” Nell says. “I know. We shouldn’t have—”

“We definitely fucking shouldn’t have,” Theo says, because she knows the words she’s supposed to say here. She has a fucking PhD to tell her. But she keeps on holding Nell, her sister stitched together in bone and flesh. She holds Nell close and watches the rain as it runs in rivulets down the window pane.

[end]


End file.
